In Loving Memory
by Satellite Heartbeats
Summary: Hermione Granger is dead to the wizarding world. Celebrated, but dead. Draco Malfoy runs into familiar bushy hair and brown eyes in the middle of muggle London, leaving him baffled and slightly intrigued. Demons of their past that they have tried so hard to bury are suddenly resurfacing and they cannot face them alone. Can they find solace in each other? D/Hr WIP.


**A/N:** My first multi-chaptered fic, Yay! Wow, way to sound childish. Anyway. Mostly angsty, but it will have a few moments of humor here and there. I'll probably keep the chapters short and update more often since that works for my schedule better. Also,the medical jargon in this fic are limited to a few chapters only and I got most of them from the internet. If you're in the field of medicine and about to send me flames for fabricating medical bullshit, please don't. Kidding.

**Disclaimer**: If I had written Harry Potter, I'd be lounging by a pool of butterbeer, enjoying a lemon drop or two. But I didn't. So yeah, life sucks. To make up for it, I decided to mess with J.K. Rowling's babies instead. Honestly, it's a lot of fun.

* * *

_In Loving Memory_

Prologue

"How is she?"

"Not looking good, Mr. Potter. Despite her use of muggle drugs combined with potions and constant therapy, it seems she's getting worse," replied the matronly healer who reminded Harry of Molly Weasley.

"What do you mean she's getting worse?" He asked, his words pregnant with exasperation and fatigue.

"Despite all our efforts, it seems her brain is relapsing. She exhibits self-inflicting violence, both voluntary and involuntary, depending on whether she lapses into one of her fits or is trying to escape them," the healer said with a shake of her head. "Either way, it is only a matter of time before she becomes a threat to her very health. As it is, her mental well-being is already detrimental at best."

At her words, Harry winced. To have St. Mungo's declare Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age, mentally unstable was perhaps one of the most difficult things he had to experience. And he had lived through many unspeakable things. It was evident in his appearance that the news greatly troubled him. Stubble lined his jaw, dark circles took up permanent residence beneath his eyes and his hair, which was unruly at best, was a tuft of utter disarray. All in all, Harry Potter looked like shit. Yet, despite his unkempt appearance, a small glimmer of hope shimmered in his eyes.

"But what about her memories?"

"They are intact. As well as her knowledge. However, her level of trauma has manifested itself into a full-blown condition. Her night terrors have evolved into schizophrenic episodes. We have very few options to cure her already, made even fewer once she hits dementia."

"I want to see her."

"Mr. Potter, I'm afraid it is too late for Ms. Granger to be receiving visitors. Also, from what the medi-witch attending to her tells me, she is currently in one of her fits at the moment. It would do no good to see her. Surely you do not wish to harm your friend any further?" Asked the healer, trepidation evident in her tone for having to say no to The Boy Who Lived.

Harry rarely used his status as savior of the wizarding world for his benefit, but in times like these, his worry over Hermione's health was enough of an incentive for him to flash his celebrity status.

"Now, healer McAvoy, is it? You don't understand. Hermione is my friend. She helped end the war as much as I did. She is not just another patient here and I would appreciate it very much if you show me to her ward immediately," he said, his tone only slightly scathing but still maintained an unvoiced threat.

"Oh. I- uh... Well, certainly, Mr. Potter. Of course, of course. I'll show you to her room now," replied the flustered and somewhat terrified healer.

They walked along the brightly lit corridors of the Janus Thickey Ward, passing by several rooms containing other patients. They stopped in front of the room at the end of the hallway and the healer checked her file.

"Here we are. Patient 2D3F19. Granger, Hermione Jean."

Harry looked at the adjacent room, delaying looking at Hermione's cell, too afraid to face one of his best friends at the moment. peered into one of the small glass window on the door, seeing only darkness. No discernible shape could be made within the room and then suddenly, a sallow face popped in front of the glass, startling Harry.

"While they cannot harm you, Mr. Potter, I ask that you be careful seeing as the patients here are permanently ill."

"Hermione is not crazy," he huffed in response.

The healer ignored his jibe and whispered a very long password, and the door swung open.

The first thing Harry noticed was the size of the room. It was less like a hospital ward and more like a cell. He could probably reach the other end of the room in three strides. Padding covered the sharp edges of the sparse furniture, as though the cell housed as small child. The only light in the room came from the lights spilling from the hallway through the open door. He inched forward just a bit, only to notice the small figure hunched on the bed, her back to them. Careful not disrupt the patient who most likely was fast asleep, Harry spoke softly.

"Hermione?" he whispered.

There was no reply but the figure wrapped in the sheets curled into a ball, trembling and whimpering at the voice of her visitor.

He swallowed. "'Mione?" he repeated, this time hoping she would recognize him.

Suddenly, the room was illuminated by a bright blue light. Harry spun and saw the healer, the tip of her wand glowing. The intense light caused the whimpers to grow louder, and they soon morphed into loud, gasping sobs. The patient rolled to her other side, and Harry finally got a glimpse of her. What was once the fierce and brilliant Hermione Granger was no more. In her place was a wisp of a girl, her frame unnaturally thin and her complexion ashen. Her once uncontrollable mane was now limp tendrils of hair, splayed over the hospital-issued pollow. Her once vibrant face was now unrecognizable with her sallow cheeks and dull, dead eyes, moist with unshed tears. Long gashes, both old and new, marred her skin. A faint scar on her forearm looked awfully like the word 'mudblood' upon closer inspection. Were it not for the medical file that stated she was indeed one of his best friends, he would have easily mistake her for a ghost.

"Hermione? It's me, Harry."

At the sound of his voice, she moved again, her back to the bed. Her rapid, heaving pants filled the air, followed by a scream. Writhing as though she were under the Cruciatus, she mumbled nearly unintelligible words, sounding very much like "stop", "help" and "no".

He took a step forward, and she quieted down immediately. Her breathing was still coming in short, shallow gasps but she stopped shaking altogether. Her whimpers ceased and were replaced by words spoken so softly that Harry took another step forward to hear them.

"I don't know where Harry is, I swear," she whispered to no one, her eyes glassy as she stared at the ceiling. Her body screamed of utter defeat. "Please let me go. I'll be a good little mudblood. Please."

Unbearable guilt hit Harry like a tidal wave. He had no idea what terrible things Hermione had to live through to end up borderline insane. It was _his_ fault she was like this, _his_ fault that she was so broken. Had they not left her at Malfoy Manor at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange, then she would still be the Hermione they all knew and loved. But they had to leave her in order to finally defeat Voldemort. Hell, she _told_ them to leave her. After the battle, members of the Order Apparated to the Manor immediately to retrieve Hermione. The sight of her, shackled to the wall between the exsaguinated bodies of captured muggles was perhaps one of the most gruesome thing they had ever faced, even worse than seeing Voldemort himself.

The urge to comfort her was so great that Harry sprinted to her side, and placed his hands on her shoulders. Upon feeling someone touch her, Hermione stiffened and let out a broken scream, her voice hoarse from overuse. She thrashed wildly, her leg hitting Harry in the stomach, his body crumpling on the floor. She continued to writhe and sob but calmed down considerably once his skin left hers.

"Mr. Potter, that is enough! I suggest you step out of the room this minute," huffed the healer, "We shall discuss the possible treatments for Ms. Granger then."

He sighed in resignation and nodded. Standing up was a bit painful since his side was a bit tender. He was sure it would bruise soon. Realizing this, he let out a fake laugh. Crazy or not, Hermione could still kick his ass. He only hoped that the next time she did it, she was sane and conscious of her actions.

He followed the healer out of the cell and watched her as she closed the door, placing a specific locking charm on it. She turned to face him, a grim expression on her face.

"Considering the state she is in, it seems her chance of recovery has severely diminished."

He couldn't help it. His face crumpled upon hearing that Hermione would never get better. Although it did seem that there was a 'but' coming along.

"But," continued the healer,"there is a new form of treatment which has proven successful in all its trial runs."

"Wait. What do you mean 'trial runs'?" he asked, perplexed.

"You see, selective obliviation is not yet an accepted medical practice. But our research has shown promising results."

Harry noticed the hint or reluctance in her tone. As though she was not convinced this was the cure Hermione so desperately needed. Her words caused something to explode inside him.

"You mean to say that _Hermione Granger_ will be a fucking experiment? That she will end up as your goddamn _lab rat_ for this treatment?" he spat. His chest heaved and his fist clenched as he continued with his tirade.

"Do you plan on playing doctor with her only to discard her when the treatment fails? She is a fucking war heroine and you want to make her an _experiment_?"

"Mr. Potter! Will you please listen before you explode?" exclaimed the healer.

Harry had managed to look sheepish and thus conceded to the healer McAvoy's reasoning. He hadn't slept properly in months. A lot of loose ends had to be attended to since it was only a month after the final battle. There were still a few Death eaters at large who needed to be brought to justice. Considering the amount of destruction they had to deal with, there were more pressing matters than the sanity of Hermione Granger.

In that moment, Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, savior of the wizarding world, had never looked so defeated. Not even when Sirius or Dumbledore or Ron died. After all that he had been through, this was as much as his threshold of pain could handle. He had finally reached his limit. Seeing no other viable option, he opted to listen to the healer's proposal.

"Tell me more about this treatment."

"Well, an Occlumens of ours has confirmed that Ms. Granger's hallucinations are based on her memories from the war. Whether they are real or fabricated, we do not know."

"Go on," Harry urged.

"The very root of her condition is based on the trauma she had to live through. Because none of our other therapies can aid her, we considered selective obliviation as a possible cure. In this treatment, only memories of the war are obliviated. Other memories and her knowledge will remain untouched."

"But the war is part of her," he argued. "Wouldn't she feel incomplete if you took her memories against her will?"

"We thought about that, yes. To compensate for the memory loss, we decided to collect her memories before she is obliviated," she replied. "After the therapy is over, she may choose to watch them in a pensieve for the sake of relearning. This way, she can go through with her memories without remembering the feeling of trauma. It allows her a sense of detachment from her troubled past."

"Will this harm Hermione in any way?" whispered Harry, who was still a bit skeptic although his desperation left him with no choice. He would do everything to get his best friend back.

"Not in any way that we know of, Mr. Potter."

"Fine," he sighed. "Do it."

* * *

St. Mungo's Hospital of Magical Maladies and Injuries

Janus Thickey Ward

Medical Report

Patient Name: GRANGER, HERMIONE JEAN

ID Number: 2D3F19

Age: 18

Gender: FEMALE

Blood status: MUGGLE-BORN

Family History: N/A

Potion Allergies: NO KNOWN ALLERGIES.

Referring Healer: MCAVOY, POPPY

**DIAGNOSIS**

Prolonged exposure to Cruciatus resulting in recurrent schizophrenic episodes, non-suicidal self injury, mild body dysmorphic order and post traumatic stress disorder .

**TECHNIQUE**

Selective Obliviation (SO) was performed on the patient using standard protocol. Standard healer wand and calming draught administered through muggle syringe were utilized for this procedure. Memories obliviated were based on the results provided by resident Occlumens Tobias Tinder.

**RESULTS**

Patient maintains cognitive and conative function. Basic body processes have not been affected. Patient exhibits severe retrograde amnesia resulting from malfunction in the SO procedure. Latest memory recorded suggests patient has lost all knowledge regarding magic and the wizarding world. Alternate plausible cause for memory loss is post-traumatic amnesia.

* * *

Harry paced back and forth in front of the room Hermione was resting in. The treatment took place hours ago and healers were in her room, assessing her vitals and checking if the treatment was a success. He couldn't help but worry over Hermione's safety but clung to the hope of having her back again.

A familiar voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"Well it isn't St. Potter, pacing like a madman in Mungo's. Have you finally lost it and decided to check yourself in?" drawled Draco Malfoy, looking pristine as ever.

"I could say the same to you, Malfoy. It's not like you have anyone left to visit here anyway," shrugged Harry. He was far too frazzled to banter with the ferret.

In his peripheral vision he noticed the bored expression on Malfoy's face morph into that of a sneer. Malfoy opened his mouth, about to deliver a retort but the door to Hermione's room suddenly swung open and healer McAvoy stepped out, an apprehensive look on her features.

"What happened? Is she alright? Can I see her now?" said an impatient Harry.

Malfoy, having lost his opportunity at a much needed verbal spat, turn around and walked into the room three doors down from where Harry stood.

The healer cleared her throat and spoke. "She is resting for now. She has been asleep for two hours straight and without the help of a dreamless sleep potion. This is a great improvement in her condition. However, it seems we had some, uh, _complications _with the procedure."

"Complications? Oh, Merlin. Is she alright? Will she recover? Is 'Mione dying?" screeched a nearly-hysterical Harry, his voice getting higher with every word.

"No, none of that. In fact, physically speaking, Ms. Granger is more than fine. However, something went wrong with the selective obliviation and now she has lost not only traumatic memories, but all her memory related to magic and the wizarding world as well."

The healer rushed her words, expecting to feel the wrath of Harry Potter but instead, she looked at him and noticed worry and infinite sadness etched into his features as he let her words sink in. After an eternity of silence, he finally opened his mouth to speak.

"But she will remember some of her memories, right?"

McAvoy shook her head sadly. "What has been done in permanent, irreversible. Ms. Granger is now unaware that she is a witch. For the time being, we have not disclosed information about the wizarding world as to not overwhelm her. She believes she is in a muggle hospital at the moment."

It hurt to know that Hermione, one of the last remaining people he truly cared about, did not know him or anything of the world they had fought so hard for. Hermione, who, for all intents and purposes, was his sister, knew nothing about him. In his eyes, it seemed so unfair and cruel. Yet, it made sense for her to forget about the existence of magic and witches and wizards because they literally nearly drove her mad. She would be much better off without such complications in her life. It would be much easier for her to revert to being a muggle than having to relearn about witchcraft and wizardry. It seemed he would have to talk to her parents about helping her integrate herself into muggle society once more.

"Healer McAvoy? Do not tell Hermione anything about our world, understand? I have a plan."


End file.
